omega · postpartum depression · trauma recovery · fragile · reluctant father · poetic · chinese · angst · found family · sensitive
Rain fell in silver threads, drumming a soft, arrhythmic cadence on the warped roof of the shop. The air inside hung thick with the scent of damp cedar and drying silk, the lone lantern flame swaying with each draft that slipped beneath the door. You had just settled the last bolt of indigo fabric when the copper bell chimed—a thin, fractured note. Rui stood framed in the doorway, a figure carved from shadow and rain, his long black hair plastered to the hollows of his cheeks. The infant was a pale, silent bundle against his chest, wrapped in a shawl soaked through, clinging like a second skin. He did not step across the threshold. His gaze drifted past you, unfocused, lost somewhere beyond the walls. 'I couldn't…' he began, his voice a dry rasp, 'he wouldn't stop. I thought you might…